


Unwelcome Intruder

by afteriwake



Series: Home Sweet (Former) Home [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-03
Updated: 2015-03-03
Packaged: 2018-03-16 02:10:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3470474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/pseuds/afteriwake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Before Molly starts her first day at St. Bart's she has a lovely flat on Montague Street recommended to her, a flat which used to belong to Sherlock Holmes. Unfortunately everything she's heard about the previous tenant comes to a head when she finds he's broken into her new home to retrieve some papers he left in his haste to exit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It's a day late, but this is my entry for day 1 of Sherlolly Appreciation Week over at Tumblr. Most people have their first meeting at St. Bart's but I saw a lovely Tumblr post about the first post Sherlock made on the forum ([found here](http://howterrifying.tumblr.com/post/110497518678/revelation-time)) and the headcanon of how Molly's home used to be Sherlock's and this just kind of bubbled forth. Every other story in this series is going to take place in the flat there until the very end of the series.

Molly was excited, yet nervous. She was glad to be starting a new life in London, one where she could have a fresh start away from disappointments and sadness. She didn't exactly have a place to stay, for the moment renting a room from a wretched woman who was so particular with things that Molly had little freedom to do much of anything. It was quite different from living in the dormitories or at home with her Mum and Dad. The sooner she could find a place of her own the better. But for now she wanted to go take a tour of the hospital she was going to work at. St. Bart's was one of the best hospitals in the entire country and she'd been lucky enough to get a position there.

Mike Stamford had been the man she was introduced to who would give her the tour. He seemed a nice enough man, very pleasant and kind. He answered all of her questions, no matter how stupid they seemed to her, and he introduced her to all the people she'd be in contact with. There was a fair bit of hushed conversations between Mike and some of the others, and she thought there was an awful lot of emphasis put on the word him in a few of those conversations, along with someone spitefully saying the word Sherlock, but she didn't let it bother her too much. Finally the tour was over and Mike invited her to the cafeteria to answer any remaining questions she had. Soon enough, though, it turned to personal matters, and she told him a bit about her life and goals and all of that.

“I think you'll do quite well here, Molly,” he said with a grin.

“I hope so,” she said, taking a sip of her cup of tea. “I want it to work out well. I think this could be a great opportunity.”

“Oh, it will be,” he said as he nodded. “So, going to finish getting settled in?”

“You mean at home? I already am, not that it's much of a place. Just a room. Haven't found anything to really suit me yet.”

He was quiet for a moment. “An acquaintance of mine recently vacated his flat on Montague Street. Disagreements with the landlord, things of that nature. He's a bit...prickly. But it might still be open, if you want to give it a look. I can give you the address.”

“Well, I don't know. I mean, if the landlord's hard to get along with...” she said.

“No, I'm fairly sure it was all my acquaintance's fault as opposed to the landlord. He has the tendency to rub people the wrong way sometimes. Brilliant man, but his people skills leave much to be desired. Don't think he'll ever really work on them, to be honest. Best just to take him as he is and hope for the best.”

“I see,” she said.

“It is a really nice place,” he replied. “I've been there once or twice. It's very close to the hospital, and it's fairly spacious. Two bedrooms, I believe, and it has a nice view.”

“It would be better than just a room,” she said thoughtfully, tilting her head slightly. “If the rent is reasonable I suppose it wouldn't hurt to give it a shot.”

“Perfect!” He reached over for a paper napkin and pulled a pen from his shirt pocket, then wrote an address on it before handing it to her. “That's the address. I don't have a number, I'm afraid, so you'll have to pop over there and hope the landlord's in.”

“I'll do that now, then,” she said with a smile. "Thanks, Mike."

“Think nothing of it,” he said with a grin in return.

She quickly finished her tea and then made her way out of the hospital. It really was quite close, she realized. Since she didn't know her way around London all that well she decided it would be best to take a taxi, and so she went to the curb and hailed one. It was a short trip to the address and she saw a man in front, having a smoke. “Excuse me,” she asked, going up to him. “Do you know who I'd speak to about maybe renting an empty flat in this building?”

“That'd be Mrs. Lincoln,” he said with a grin. “Just go in and down the hall, first door on the left. You want to take that bastard's old flat, I take it?”

Molly blinked. “What bastard?”

“Sherlock Holmes. Played his violin at ungodly hours of the morning, always had some 'experiment' or another causing awful stenches. Scorched the kitchen counters, I heard, because he wasn't paying attention to what he was doing. Mrs. Lincoln was glad to get rid of him. I'm sure if you're the opposite of him you two will get along just fine.”

There was the name again. Well, at least she knew why the people at St. Bart's didn't seem to like Sherlock very much. If he was that much of a menace to his landlord she could just imagine how much trouble he was to everyone at the hospital. “Well, I'll go in and chat with her. Thank you for your time.”

“Welcome,” he said before having another puff on his cigarette.

She made her way inside and went to the door she had been told to go to. She hesitated a moment, then knocked sharply. The door opened and a stern faced woman came to the door. “Yes?” she asked.

“I was hoping to talk to you about renting an open flat?” Molly said.

Mrs. Lincoln's eyes widened. “How did you know I had a flat open?”

“One of my superiors knows the man who rented it.”

“He was an absolute beast,” she spat out. “I'm glad to have washed my hands of him.” Then she looked Molly up and down. “What type of person are you?”

“Quiet, I suppose. I mostly keep to myself. I don't like causing trouble.” She looked at Mrs. Lincoln when their eyes met. “I don't think I'll be nearly as bad as he was. Not even close.”

“I'm a good judge of character, most of the time. I wasn't here when Mr. Holmes moved in or else I never would have allowed him to stay here. Where are you staying now?”

“Renting a room on Tufnell Park Road.”

“That is a bit of a ways away,” she said thoughtfully. “Where do you work?”

“St. Bart's. I mean, my first actual day is Monday, but I'll be a specialist registrar there. A pathologist, I mean.”

The stern look softened a bit. “My husband was a pathologist. Not at St. Bart's. In America. We'd left here years ago and I only came back when he passed. It's an interesting field.” Then she shut the door slightly, reaching for something, before opening the door again and stepping out. “All right, then. I'll show you the flat. Keep in mind I haven't had a chance to fix any of the damage Mr. Holmes did to it, and there was a lot more than I'd thought. It's habitable, but if you take the place I'll have to have workers come in and fix things when you aren't home.”

Molly nodded, and Mrs. Lincoln locked her door behind her. They made their way to the stairs and up two flights before she went to a door. She seemed to brace herself for what she was going to find and then opened the door and stepped inside. She went in and saw it was a mess. The more she took in the more she saw that he really hadn't been the best housekeeper. “I take it he left in a hurry?”

“He did. I threatened to call the police on him when I heard the gunshot,” the woman said as Molly's eyes widened. “Shot a hole in his sofa to test a theory.”

“Oh, my,” she said. She drifted towards the kitchen and saw one of the countertops was scorched, just like the man outside had said. She could smell a distinct odor of rotted meat. Most of the furniture was gone but there were a few pieces. Some of it even looked to be in decent condition.

“I've been debating what to do with the last of his things. He had until yesterday to get them, so it's my property now. I suppose if this place interests you you can keep them. Whatever you don't want, tell me and I'll have it taken out.” Mrs. Lincoln looked at her. “As you can see, there's a lot to fix.”

“Yes, but it does look like a lovely place,” she said, taking it all in. “I imagine I can make it a nice home.”

“I'll offer you discounted rent the first two months, seeing as it's halfway through this month and I'll have to have work done. But I think you'll find me more than fair,” Mrs. Lincoln said. “If you want, you can move in immediately, or you can wait for me to have the work started and move in next month.”

“Oh, no, the sooner I move in the better, I suppose,” she said. “I should see about getting my furniture from home in here. Had it moved here but couldn't find a place right away.”

Mrs. Lincoln nodded. “Very well. Let's go downstairs and get the paperwork settled.” Then she paused. “Tell me, do you like cats? Mine had a litter and I have one left who I need to find a home for. He was the runt so no one wanted him.”

Molly gave her a wide smile. “I adore cats,” she said.

Mrs. Lincoln gave her a smile in return. “I think we're going to get along just fine, then.” She nodded towards the door. “If you'll follow me?” She stepped back to the door and Molly gave the flat one last look before following. This was going to be a very nice place to live, she could tell.


	2. Chapter 2

Molly decided to keep some of the furniture, but she had most of the two bedroom flat furnished on her own with the things she brought with her from Cambridge. She hadn't expected to inherit as much furniture as she had when her flatmate had gotten married but now she was glad for it. By noon on Saturday Mrs. Lincoln had moved out the furniture she didn't want to keep, and when supper time rolled around that same day her own furniture had been moved into place. Other people had been curious about her, so she'd introduced herself to the other people in her building as the movers got things just where she wanted them.

She decided it was best to spend Sunday unpacking and arranging things, so she went out to a nearby Thai restaurant to get her evening meal. It took her a bit longer than she had anticipated, and she made her way back up to her new flat, eagerly anticipating a good meal and the chance to watch an old favorite film. She was debating in her head exactly what she wanted to watch when she got her keys out. She put them in the lock and went to unlock the door but she found it was already unlocked. She froze for a moment, debating on whether to call the cops or not, when she remembered she had a spray in her handbag. She quietly shifted things around to pull it out, then slowly opened the door.

There was a man sitting on her sofa, going through one of her boxes and muttering to himself. She assumed he was quite tall, and definitely on the lean side. He had on a well cut black suit with a purple shirt that almost looked too tight. He had curly dark hair and he seemed to be quite handsome, despite the exasperated look on his face. She raised the canister of spray higher. “I don't know who you are but get the bloody hell out of my home,” she said, her voice wavering only slightly.

He looked up at her, his eyes narrowing. “You're the new tenant,” he said.

“Yes, I am,” she said, straightening slightly. “So get out.”

“Where are my papers?” he asked, standing up. He was quite a bit taller than her, she realized. “I thought I had gotten all of the important ones but I left the results of two experiments and I need them.”

She blinked. This _had_ to be Sherlock Holmes. “How did you get in here? Mrs. Lincoln changed the locks,” she asked, still not lowering her arm.

“I can pick just about any lock known to man,” he said with a slight shrug. “It isn't that hard.” He took a step closer and she raised her arm up. “All I want are the papers.”

“You could have knocked on the door and waited until I answered instead of letting yourself in,” she said, raising her arm up more so that if she depressed the button the spray would hit him right in the eyes.

“Would you lower that? You won't spray me and we both know it,” he said, rolling his eyes. “I just want my papers and I'll be on my way.”

“How do you know I didn't throw them away?” she asked.

“Because you have some level of intelligence, or at least I assume you do by the medical texts I saw in the box. You'd have realized my papers weren't just rubbish,” he said, crossing his arms. “I'm assuming you work at the nearby hospital. St. Bart's? Are you a new nurse on rotation?”

“Actually, I'm the new specialist registrar,” she said, glaring at him. A compliment couched as an insult. No wonder no one liked him. “Dr. Molly Hooper.”

His eyes widened slightly. “ _You're_ Stamford's new employee?” he asked. “I knew he said there was a new one but I never expected you to be living in my flat.”

“But it's not _your_ flat, it's _my_ flat,” she said. “And I would kindly like it if you would leave.”

“As soon as I get my papers I will,” he said.

She stared at him and then sighed. “They're in the guest bedroom, in the box there.”

“Good,” he replied, turning to the bedroom and moving in that direction.

“You know, I _was_ going to ask Mike if he had a forwarding address for you,” she said as she followed him. “I knew those seemed to be important and I knew this was your flat and that he knew you so I thought he could help me get them to you.”

“Well, now you don't have to trouble yourself,” he said, opening the door. He stopped and stared. “You're keeping it.”

“Keeping what?” she asked as she came behind him.

“The furniture,” he said.

“Well, it's not bad furniture. Not my taste, but I only have the one bedroom set. Why, did you want it?”

“No. I just thought you'd want to put your stamp on this place and to hell with my things,” he said, moving into the room. He went to the box on the bed and opened it, going through the papers. “After all, I did leave it here without a second thought.”

“And I'm sure you would have taken it if you could,” she said.

“The flat I moved into was mostly furnished,” he said as he continued going through the box. “I had no need for the rest of the furniture. Better to leave it to that harpy to get rid of than to trouble myself with it.”

“She isn't that bad,” Molly said.

“On the contrary. Mrs. Lincoln is a two faced witch, through and through. Had her favorites and I certainly was not one of them.” He closed the box and lifted it up. “You'll see I'm right soon enough, Dr. Hooper.”

“I think you're wrong,” she said as she moved out of the doorway.

“I am never wrong,” he said. “I'm sure my deductions on you are quite sound.”

“Oh?” she asked as he moved past her. “And just what are they?”

“You're in your very early thirties. You live a spinsterly life, more content to curl up with your beloved books and a glass of wine than to go out and mingle. You have a preoccupation with romances, though, preferring to live vicariously through the stories of others. You worked hard, and I imagine you're the type who wants to stay with something once you start it because you don't want to disappoint anyone by giving up. And you're a pushover.”

“You may be right about a lot of it, but you're wrong about one thing,” she said as he got into her sitting room.

“Oh?” he asked, turning to face her.

“If you'd actually looked at the books in my boxes you'd find more murder mysteries than romance novels,” she said, crossing her arms. 

His mouth quirked up slightly, in just the faintest hint of an amused smile. “I see,” he murmured. “I think it's going to be very interesting learning more about you.”

“Well, that's if I let you,” she said. She moved over towards him and then turned him around. “If you ever need to come back, _don't_ let yourself in, understood? Knock and wait for me to answer like a normal person.”

“Fine, fine,” he said with an exasperated sigh as she gave him a small shove. “I doubt I'll need to come back, however.”

“Good,” she said. She walked behind him as he got to the door and fumbled with the door knob for a moment.

When he finally got the door opened he stepped outside and turned around. “Dr. Hooper?”

“Yes?” she asked.

He gave her a very assessing glance as he looked her up and down. “I think I might have use of you yet.” Despite herself she found herself blushing. “I'll see you sooner rather than later.”

She shook her head and then shut the door on him. No wonder no one liked him. He seemed like he was an insufferable prat. A very attractive one, but a prat nonetheless. And then her eyes widened and she groaned as she put her back against the door. No no _no_. She was not going to allow herself to fancy the man, not one bit. That was not in the plan. She was going to fight it with all the willpower she could muster because if there was one person in the world she absolutely could not fall for it would have to be Sherlock Holmes. That could only lead to trouble.


End file.
